Far From Home
by Rue
Summary: CHAPTER THREE IS UP! JJ is in Vietnam and has just been taken as a P.O.W, will he survive?
1. Default Chapter

A Thousand Miles- Chapter One  
  
He was home again, warm in his own bed. He could hear his mother down stairs, bustling about the kitchen making breakfast- it had been awhile since he had eaten a good meal. His stomach grumbled at the thought. The hair dryer clicked on in the next room accompanied by the soft humming of the Beatle's latest. He smiled- It was Meg.   
  
Opening his eyes he could see the snow falling softly outside. His room was lit by a soft yellow light coming from the lamp on top of the stand next to his bed. His room was adorned with countless trophies and awards but the only thing that held his attention was a photo on his desk. Getting up out of bed he threw on a pair of jeans and an old plaid shirt under his football jacket. He opened the door to find Patty standing in front of a closed bathroom door with her arms firmly crossed, squaring her jaw.  
  
"Meg if you don't get out of the bathroom I'm going to tell Dad!"  
  
"Patty stop being a tattle tale and Meg get out of the bathroom. Hey JJ." Jack Pryor said exiting his while bedroom fixing his tie.   
  
"Morning." He waved and began to make his way down the stairs when he heard a distinctly young voice yell his name followed by the soft thud of crutches hitting the ground. JJ patiently waited for his little brother Will to come to the top of the stairs.  
  
"Can we go sledding today?" JJ smiled, gently picked the boy up in his arms and carried him down the stairs.   
  
"Sure, but I've got a couple things to do first. OK?"  
  
"Great!" Will exclaimed as his older brother set him down on the ground. JJ walked into kitchen, kissed his mother on the cheek, and grabbed a piece of toast.  
  
"Aren't you going to eat anything more than that?" Helen Pryor asked.  
  
"No, I've got to go but I'll be home for lunch. Bye, mom."   
  
He buttoned up his jacket against the bitter cold and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Even though he hadn't far to walk and he wasn't late or even expected he hurried down the sidewalk. The excitement in his chest began to build and he began to jog slowly. He jogged down the street and as he turned the corner he broke into a run, sailing past East Catholic High School. Seeing the downtown coming into view he began to run faster than before.   
  
He turned off of Main Street onto Forest Road and he could see her house. JJ slowed down just as he came upon her lawn. He caught his breath and slowly walked up the drive, feeling the nervousness building in his chest. So many questions racked his brain, had she missed him? Had she forgotten him? - But he pushed them from his head as he walked up the drive. He knocked loudly on the door and stepped back off the stoop. Everything from that moment on was in slow motion. He heard a shuffling of footsteps and the door opened. Beth gasped as her hands flew to her mouth. Tears began to fall down her cheeks. His heart ached to hold her in his arms. They stared at each other for a long moment.   
  
"JJ?" She whispered. He opened his mouth and tried to speak but being so overcome with emotion he was unable to. He walked up the stoop and stood inches away from her. Her hands rose to his face-   
  
  
  
"WAKE UP! We're being attacked!" I awoke from my dream to pitch-black and to the sound of bullets flying overhead. I felt for my gun and yelled for my troops to spread out.   
  
They began to run in a million directions, being hidden well by the bush. I pulled the pin out of a grenade in my pocket and threw it as far as I could. A few seconds later it exploded and I could hear the Vietcong yelling to each other. Flames erupted a few feet ahead of me and I moved away from them. A severed limb fell an inch away from me and blood spurted across my face. I rose from the ground and began to run forward as my troops followed my lead. I looked behind me in just enough time to see McMullen take a bullet in the chest. I kneeled beside him and pulled his head into my lap. I took a cloth from my pocket and held it to his chest.   
  
"MEDIC!" I screamed. "Stay still it's ok, you're going to be fine."   
  
Color drained from his cheeks, he shook his head.  
  
"Do it." McMullen whispered.  
  
"No!"   
  
"Please-" He begged. Blood began to pour from his mouth, he gasped for air. I closed my eyes, knowing what I had to do. I took the gun, put it to his head, and pulled the trigger. Tears streamed down my cheeks.   
  
"God, save us." I whispered. Someone roughly pulled me to my feet and a moment later I could feel the cold blade of a machete against my neck.   
  
Author's note- Should I continue with this story? If you think so, please review.   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own American Dreams or any of the characters. This is a work of fiction based on the NBC television series. 


	2. Chapter Two

Far From Home- Chapter Two  
  
We had been walking for days now and we were only allowed to rest when the Vietcong got water for themselves at streams we encountered. The vine was wrapped around the waist of the first P.O.W, his hands were placed behind his back, and then the vine was used to bind his hands together. The vine was then taken and wrapped around the waist of the second P.O.W and so on.  
  
The vines were wrapped tightly around my hands, so tight they cut deep gashes into them and not soon after were they administered did I feel blood begin to trickle down them. The bush was thick with tall plants and trees, but neither was able to provide adequate protection from the sun. My skin was burned and my mouth was dry, lips cracked. Occasionally one of my men or myself would fall and the Vietcong would not stop to help him up. Instead he would be dragged and by some good fortune would manage to get up and retain the upright position. They surrounded us with their machine guns. They had no uniform except for the round of bullets that was slung over each of their necks.  
  
When we passed villages, people would come to their doors, cheer for the Vietcong and spit on us. Some of my troops cursed and I yelled for them to shut up but before they could realize their mistake the Vietcong would lunge at them, striking them in the back with their guns. I wondered why they didn't just shoot and kill us, instead of keeping us alive. Maybe, they just wanted to see us suffer first.   
  
We began to slow down as we entered a clearing in the woods. Spread around the clearing was an array of huts in every size, each with a stream of smoke rising from the chimney. When they entered the clearing women and children began to run to them. The man to my left picked up a chubby little boy and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A tiny woman on my right ran to the member of the Vietcong army in front of me and jumped into his arms. It was obvious that these were their families and this their home.   
  
We were led into the largest of the huts and pushed to the ground. What I assumed was their leader, an older man with long dark hair that was crudely cut and a ragged beard, before exiting, had two men stand guard. An hour later he came back with a woman carrying food and water. He motioned to the contents she had set on the ground and asked, "Who boss?"  
  
"Me." I said. One of his guards came up and using a knife cut the vine that connected me to my squadron. The guard pulled me up by my arm, lead me outside, and into a smaller hut. I sat down at a table. The leader set down a glass of water and a plate in front of me. I wasn't able to go for the food with my hands because they were tied behind my back so I tried to with my teeth but before I could eat anything he pulled it all away.  
  
"First, secrets!" He demanded. My brows furrowed, confused.  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"TELL SECRETS!" He yelled, banging his fist on the table, spilling the glass of water. It ran off the table and onto my boots.  
  
"What secrets?!?!?" I was so confused.  
  
"Why you here?!? What your mission?!?" He asked, calming down but only a little. I knew what he wanted to know now but I was bound by Marine law and most of all to my men, I couldn't- I wouldn't tell him. I wouldn't tell him that my squadron was meant to join another and then burn down the villages known to aide his army. I would refuse for as long as I could and when he threatened to kill my men I would start to feed him false information. That should buy us some time.   
  
"TELL ME!" He screamed, taking his gun and hitting me on the head with it. I yelled in pain and then blacked out. Their leader took a bucket of water placed it on the table, grabbed me by the neck and plunged my head into it. The drowning effect worked because a moment later I drew back and gasped for air. Their leader waited patiently for a moment, allowing me to recover. I hung my head, no longer able to hold it up. My ears were ringing and I was now seeing double vision.  
  
"Tell me secrets."   
  
"No." I answered defiantly, trying to raise my head to his eye level. He threw a punch and I narrowly missed it. He did it again and this time his fist connected with my nose. I heard a crack and I knew it was broken. Blood streamed down my face and onto my shirt.   
  
"TELL ME!"   
  
Gasping for breath, now unable to breathe from my nose, I yelled again, "No!"   
  
Their leader mumbled something in Vietnamese to the guards and he left the hut. They pulled me from the chair; cut the vines that binded my hands together, and then threw me against the wall. Each guard grabbed one of my arms and a shackle hanging from the ceiling that I hadn't noticed when I first came in and put it around my wrist. I was now hanging from the ceiling.   
  
*Philadelphia-The Pryor Household.   
  
"Patty, please set the table for dinner. We'll be eating in a few minutes." Helen Pryor said sticking her head out of the kitchen into the living room where her youngest daughter sat on the couch doing her homework. Will was sitting in front of the television completely engrossed.  
  
"Sure, mom." She replied setting down her things and then going to the cabinet. Helen returned to the stove and added a little more butter to the mashed potatoes. Meg walked in at that moment.  
  
"Mom, can I go to Roxanne's?" The doorbell rang.   
  
"Yes, but after dinner. Could you get the door, please?" Meg nodded and left the kitchen. A minute later, her husband walked through the back door.   
  
"Hi honey, I'm home." She went to her husband and kissed him on the mouth.   
  
"How was your day?" She asked, helping him off with his jacket.  
  
"Busy, we sold a lot of televisions today." Meg walked back into the kitchen, looking scared.   
  
"Meg, what's wrong?" Her mother asked.  
  
"Ther-there's a m-man at the door, he's asking for Mr. and Mrs. Pryor. He has a telegram for you." Helen and Jack looked at each other terrified, and hurried to the front door.  
  
It was open and there stood an older gentleman on the front stoop, wearing a blue uniform holding a telegram.   
  
"I have been instructed to give this to a Mr. or Mrs. Pryor. Are one or both of you them?"  
  
"Yes, we are." Helen said. The man offered the telegram to her, she took it, said thank you and closed the door. She trembled, staring at the telegram in her hand. Meg, Patty, and Will stood in the living room, eyes wide.  
  
"We don't know... That it has anything to do with him until we open it." Jack gently said to his wife. She nodded turned it over, peeled back the flap and read. Jack looked over her shoulder.  
  
"Oh, Jack." She whispered collapsing into his arms; the telegram fell to the floor. Meg grabbed the telegram and read it aloud:  
  
"We regret to inform you that your son, Jack Pryor Jr. is missing in action, whereabouts unknown."  
  
Authors Note: I would like to apologize for the typos in chapter one and I tried to be better with looking for errors in chapter two. If you, the reader, have any ideas for Far From Home please feel free to e-mail me with them. I ask to be e-mailed because if it's left on a review and I choose to use it everyone will know what is going to happen before it does, which is no fun. Of course, if I choose to use someone's idea then I will give them credit in the chapter that it was used in. I know that in this chapter JJ got the crap beaten out of him and just to warn everyone this wont be the last time. Please review!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own American Dreams or any of the characters. This is a work of fiction based on the NBC television series. 


	3. Chapter Three

Far From Home- Chapter Three  
  
It was 8 o'clock and I was sitting on my bed in my dorm trying to get through the last four one act plays that were on the required reading list for my Women's Studies class, a class that I had a test in the very next morning. I could barely keep my eyes open. I set my books down on the floor and laid back while pulling the blanket at the end of the bed over me. I reached up, switched off the light, and rested my head on the pillow, closing my eyes.   
  
"Only for a few minutes." I whispered to myself.  
  
A soft knock came at my door. My eyes fluttered open to darkness. I glanced at my clock and cursed myself when I realized it was 10 already. I got up and turned on the light, smoothed my clothing and walked to the door.  
  
"Hello?" I called.  
  
"Beth, it's Mrs. Pryor. May I please come in?"   
  
"Of course!" I pulled open the door, shocked to find that it was really her. "Is everything alright?" I asked, but by looking at her face I knew that it was a dumb question. I stepped aside and she walked in. I closed the door behind her. She turned around and stared at me for a long moment.  
  
"Beth, I think you may need to sit down." She said motioning to my bed. This is bad, I thought.   
  
"What's going on?" I demanded.  
  
"Beth, you're going to need to sit down." My eyes grew wide. Oh god, please don't let it be JJ- I'll do anything. I sat down slowly, never taking my eyes from her. She sat down beside me, leaned forward and took my hands in hers. Tears began to fall down her cheeks.  
  
"Is he... Alive?" I softly whispered.   
  
"We got a telegram today, saying that he is missing in action." She let go of my hands, pulled it from her pocket, and handed it to me. I took it from her and just looked at it. Before I knew it teardrops began to fall onto the page. I read it over and looked back up at her.  
  
"So does that mean he could still be-"  
  
"I don't know what that means." She said. "I wish I did."   
  
"He can't be... I don't feel it...In my heart that he is."   
  
"Neither do I Beth, neither do I."  
  
*Somewhere in Vietnam  
  
I opened my eyes and quickly shut them again due to the mass amount of sunlight streaming in through the door. I opened them again slowly and moaned. My wrists, arms, shoulders, and back ached because of hanging from the wall. An elderly Vietnamese woman stood in front of me. She was blurry; I still hadn't regained all of my sight from when he had hit me over the head with his gun. I looked down at myself. I was dirty and my clothes were spattered with blood.  
  
"I ordered, give you food." She got a chair and stepped up onto it. She had a bowl of soup in her hand that she held up to me. I opened my mouth and she poured a little in, I swallowed and she did it again. Just as I was beginning to feel full again their leader walked in. He said something in Vietnamese to the woman, she nodded and left.  
  
"You sleep for days." He said and then held up five fingers.  
  
"My men?" I asked.  
  
"Fine, for now." He answered. "They tell me your name Pryor."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
"They trained well, they no tell me secrets." He said, I was relieved.  
  
"I give you day to think. If you no tell me, I whip." He said as his hand fell to the whip located on his belt. I moaned and hung my head, knowing that there was nothing I could do. I would just have to take it.  
  
*Later that day- Dusk.  
  
I looked out the door of the hut onto Vietnamese Countryside. The women worked tirelessly on the fields that fed the Vietcong, only resting for minutes at a time to help themselves to water. They worked next to their children and sometimes with tiny babies on their backs. I found it strange that they never cried. Will cried- He cried a lot when he was first born. I remembered sitting in the waiting room of the hospital with Meg, Patty, and Grandma- This was when she was still alive. Dad raced in, still wearing the surgical gown over his work clothes, holding this little bundle in his arms.  
  
"It's a boy!" He announced. Grandma was the first who got to hold him.   
  
"JJ, would you like to hold your new brother?" Grandma asked. I shook my head; I was too scared that I would drop him.   
  
Three days later Dad and Mom brought Will home and that night I couldn't sleep. I went into the bathroom and got myself a drink of water. Walking back to my own room I passed his and I don't know what made me stop but I did. I walked in and peered over the edge of the crib. Will stared up at me and gurgled. His little hands rose in the air and he grabbed onto one of my fingers.   
  
"Whoa, you've got a good strong handshake there little guy." I whispered. People say that babies that young can't understand but I know that he did. He smiled up at me, showing me his pink toothless gums. Suddenly, his little face scrunched up and he began to cry.  
  
"Shh! You're going to wake up Mom and Dad!" I picked up the teddy bear and shook it, hoping that it would make him stop. Instead he cried harder. I noticed a bottle on the dresser next to his bed, and I went and got it. I reached into the crib and carefully supporting his head, I lifted him up and out. Holding him in the crook of my arm I gently put the nipple of the bottle into his mouth. He looked up at me as he drank and before I knew it his cries had turned into quiet sobs and then sobs into barely-audible snores. I took the bottle from him, put it back on the dresser, and then I laid him back down in his crib.  
  
"Pryor!" Their leader yelled. I snapped out of it.  
  
"You tell me secret?" He demanded.  
  
"I'm not going to tell you anything!" I yelled back at him. He screamed something to his guards. They ran at me, unlocked the shackles and I fell to the floor. I groaned, my entire body was on fire. I could barely move let alone stand.  
  
"Get up!" He yelled. I moved into the kneeling position, and using the wall as leverage I tried to get up but having lost all of my strength I fell back down again.  
  
He said something to the guards and each took me by one of my arms, dragging me from the hut to the middle of the clearing. In the middle of the clearing stood a ten-foot pole, nestled into the ground. They stripped me of my jacket and shirt. They pulled me up, wrapped my arms around the pole and then tied my hands together again so I couldn't move.   
  
"Bring troops too see strong, fearless leader!" He laughed at his own joke. I turned my head and I could see my squadron, still tied together being lead from their hut to where I was.   
  
"YOU GUYS HE'S ALIVE!"   
  
"JJ, we thought you were dead!"  
  
"Dude, you look like crap!"  
  
"Real smart Coleman- That's how to boost his morale."   
  
"Don't worry we haven't told anyone anything!"  
  
"Stay strong man!" I smiled and laughed, knowing that they were OK.  
  
"SHUT UP!" The leader of the Vietcong ordered. They did, but I could tell that it wasn't easy for them. He pulled the whip from his belt and said,  
  
"Pryor, tell me no secret so Pryor will have whip one hundred time. If he cry like baby I start over. If you no want him have whip, tell me secret."   
  
"Don't tell him anything and that's a direct order from your squad leader!" I yelled. They nodded. The leader of the Vietcong let out a roar as he brought the whip up and then down on my back. I breathed in deeply, trying to not think about the feeling of burning flesh.   
  
"Stop!" Someone yelled. It was Coleman. He was the younger brother of a good friend of mine from High School. When his older brother heard that I was Pete's squad leader he called me personally to ask if I would keep an eye on him. I gave him my word that I would.   
  
"Pete, stay back and keep quiet." I said.  
  
"But JJ-"   
  
"NO! Gebheart, make sure he stays back and keeps quiet." I ordered. Gebheart nodded.   
  
"Pryor, I tell you no talk and you talk. I start again." He said menacingly. I think he enjoyed it.  
  
"But, that's not fair! It's my fault, I shouldn't have said anything!"   
  
"Shut up man!" Gebheart yelled, knowing that Pete was only causing more trouble. Gebheart pulled Pete to him and put his hand over his mouth. I closed my eyes, praying that he would keep his mouth shut. Their leader started again, and this time it was even more painful. I focused on trying to find a memory that would help me forget about it. I was about to give up and then it dawned on me:  
  
I was eleven and in the sixth grade. I was sitting in Sister Margaret's history class staring at the clock. She was discussing the renaissance and I didn't care. An entire hour to go before the bell rang signaling second block. Class had just started. It was Friday and all I wanted at the moment was to play in the football game that night against Western- and win. There was a knock at the door and Father Phinney walked in, motioning for sister to come toward him. She did, they talked for a few minutes and then he left.  
  
"Class, we have a new student." Sister Margaret announced. "It's alright you can come in." My eyes traveled from the clock to the doorway and in came a girl. She was just a little shorter than I was with shoulder length brown hair and eyes. Her features were delicate but I knew by looking at the redness in her cheeks and the gleam in her eyes that she was strong- passionate. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my entire life. I came to just after she had introduced herself to the class so I hadn't heard anything that she had said. She sat down two rows away from me, third seat from the front of the class. I couldn't take my eyes away from her and when the bell finally rang I followed her out of class.   
  
I came up behind her as she moved slowly through the halls holding a piece of paper in her hand looking slowly from one wall of lockers to the other. I was almost too scared to tap her shoulder but I did.  
  
She turned around and automatically smiled up at me.  
  
"I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name." I said.  
  
"My name's Beth." She said extending her hand to me. At first I was surprised, having never seen anyone my age do that before but nevertheless I took her hand and shook it.  
  
"My name's JJ Pryor."  
  
"It's nice to meet you JJ." Our hands were still touching. "Do you have any idea where locker 231 is?"  
  
"Yeah, I do."  
  
"Do you think that you could show me where it is?"  
  
"Sure." I said staring into her eyes, completely amazed.   
  
"JJ?" She asked getting a funny look on her face.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"In order for you to show me where my locker is you're going to have to let go of my hand and move."  
  
"Oh yeah, right. I'm sorry." I said blushing.  
  
The lashings were over and instead of dragging me back into the hut I just came from, I was put into the same hut as my troops.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own American Dreams or any of the Characters. This a work of fiction based on the NBC television series.   
  
Authors Note: I am so sorry that it took me this long to write and post chapter three. I will do my best to not take so long to post the fourth chapter. To the person who made the comment about the amount of blood and gore in my story- Get over it. This is a story about a young man fighting in a war and unfortunately in war people die. People are shot and killed. Sometimes they are even blown up and their limbs go flying through the air. There is blood. It is not nice and it is certainly not pretty. It would be unrealistic and unfair for me to not portray the realism of the situation JJ is in. 


End file.
